7 Days
by Peacesandwich
Summary: When 9 1Ps and 9 2Ps are left in a small apartment for a week, watched by one bored God. Story narrated by professional Narrator and various characters. Rated M for various things. Caution: gore, temporary character deaths, light yaoi, annoying 2Ps, a fail fanfic writer's second desperate grapple at fame online.
1. Intro

**Greetings to all who made it this far into the story, I am Peacesandwich, the author of it.**

**As you may have noticed, the story did not begin yet. So the above statement does not work.**

**I apologize for annoying you with that.**

**Warnings: Human names used to prevent confusion with 1Ps and 2Ps, temporary character death, inexplicable "God" character, gore, short chapters, constant switching between God's POV, the narrator's and random characters, plus light Yaoi. Multiple pairings (but as I said, light Yaoi only).**

**You may have guessed that the 9 countries in question are the G8 + China. I try to stay as in character as possible, and the 2Ps are the way I decipher the great Hidekaz Himaruya's drawings of them. So they may not be the same as how most fanon portray them.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**This "Author's notes", I have noticed, is getting rather long. Which is why the story begins, now.**

_intro_

I am God.

God, as in the one who created this place. The one who started it all. It's me.

And I'm bored.

Seriously, I've been alive since forever. Being God, I don't sleep. Being God, I don't eat.

Being God, there's nothing to do besides watch pesky mortals get on with life, the way they might watch television, minus any snacks or drinks.

It sucks to be God.

Boredom is one of the hardest things to cope with in God's life. I perfectly have the right to say that. Boredom was the thing that told me to create humanity in the first place. Humanity should be interesting to watch, I thought.

I was sort of correct. For the next few millennium, I was slightly more entertained. The planet I set humanity on was called "Earth". The civilization was fascinating.

Compared to other planets I have created life on though, Earth is quite, behind. It did not develop high technology, and its inhabitants constantly quarrel and bicker with each other. I actually made semi-immortal personifications for their little groups known as "countries" for them. The squabbling loses its interestingness, after a while.

Earth, in general, is undergoing a short period of peace. Besides the fact that Philippines is trying to annoy China, and stuff's going on in the Middle East.

So nothing interesting to watch.\

Crap.

Which is why I came up with this idea.

Drop the pesky country personifications, along with evil versions of themselves from a parallel universe, into a small apartment.

The plan blossomed in my mind, into something that is truly the work of God.

They will have limited food and water.

They will have one knife.

They will have one gun.

They will have one week.

There will be one survivor.

That's it. Wooooo yeah. I'm really awesome, even for God.

Drop Alfred F. Jones, Arthur Kirkland, Francis Bonnefoy, Wang Yao, Ivan Braginsky, Ludwig van Beilschmidt, Veneziano Vargas, Honda Kiku, Allen F. Jones, Oliver Kirkland, Francois Bonnefoy, Wang Zhou, Nicolai Braginsky, Lutz van Beilschmidt, Feliciano Vargas and Honda Mikado in the same, small, inescapable apartment for seven days. Tell them that whoever survives in the end will have one wish granted. No matter what it is, as long as it is within my power.

So it's decided.

The apartment will have five rooms. One living room, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and one small kitchen, without any knives.

The one gun will have seventeen shots. Enough for everybody besides the survivor.

The one knife will be sharpened to its extreme.

_Let it begin._


	2. first death

**Annoying intro over.**

**I use British spelling (oh yeah), but my idiotic computer auto-corrects it all into American. **

**Here, have a list of characters. I'm nice. **

**1P America: Alfred F. Jones. 2P: Allen F. Jones.**

**1P Britain: Arthur Kirkland. 2P: Oliver Kirkland.**

**1P France: Francis Bonnefoy. 2P: Francois Bonnefoy.**

**1P China: Wang Yao. 2P: Wang Zhou (zh-**_**oh**_**!)**

**1P Russia: Ivan Braginsky (**_**ee-**_**van). 2P: Nicolai Braginsky.**

**1P Germany: Ludwig van Beilschmdt. 2P: Lutz van Beilschmdt.**

**1P N. Italy: Veneziano Vargas. 2P: Feliciano Vargas.**

**1P Japan: Honda Kiku. 2P: Honda Mikado.**

**2P China's name comes from the name of a famously ruthless emperor. 2P Russia's is random. 1P Germany's last name is the same as Prussia's, as they are brothers; in my opinion their surnames should be the same. 2P Japan's was found somewhere else. It also means a Japanese emperor or a type of crunchy Pocky-like biscuit. Every other name came from fanworks.**

_chapter i._

Day 1

Greetings. I am the narrator. I tell the story. Have fun.

The room is wide, but considering the fact that it is a living room, its size is rather small for one, despite being quite large already. The lights are off, and it is sort of dark. The time is 3 in the afternoon, and in exactly 168 hours, this will end. A gray sofa is at the very end of the rectangular room. A curtainless floor-to-ceiling window stands on the other end, showing a grim view of clouds. I suppose this place is in cloud level. How does it even float, I do not know, but then, God says so, and the world obeys him, no matter what.

On both sides of the room, two black doors stand out against the painted white walls and floor. They lead off to a bedroom connected to a toilet, and a kitchen, where some food is stored.

The first unwilling contestants appear.

All of a sudden, eight very annoyed nations appeared on the paint-white floor.

Wait, make that nine. Plus the dope with the glasses that looked like someone just confiscated a polar bear from him.

"W-Where are we?"

The obvious American of the group (bomber jacket, overweight), Alfred F. Jones/America spluttered, being the first to recover from the shock.

"How the bloody hell should I know?" Retorted the man with mutated eyebrows. He is Arthur Kirkland or Britain.

"No one said you should know, love." France, a.k.a. Francis Bonnefoy sang. His French accent made everything sound like singing.

"The design of this place, aru!" Wang Yao, or China, exclaimed. He sat up and started to examine the paint on the floor.

A Russian grinned in the background. He was named Ivan Braginsky, or simply Russia, while a Japanese man named Honda Kiku/Japan sat up, blinked and said nothing.

"Germany Germany, this place is odd. Will there be pasta?" An idiot with a weird curl asked. Veneziano Vargas, North Italy, or Italy for short.

The last man, Ludwig van Beilschmdt/Germany, facepalmed like he did it so much he bothered to practice the correct techniques of facepalming.

"Can't you guys ask something normal?"

"Germany, Germany, I want pasta, vehh." Stated Veneziano. "Germany, Germany, Germany, pasta, pasta, pasta~"

Ludwig stayed in the facepalm position.

Alfred, Arthur and Francis bickered in the background, Yao searched his pockets for snacks with Ivan watching him in an inexplicable way, Kiku examined the situation.

Which is when our second group of contestants appear next to their parallel universe counterparts.

Allen F. Jones swore. Oliver Kirkland grinned. Francois Bonnefoy wondered where his cigarette went. Wang Zhou looked at Nicolai Braginsky. Nicolai Braginsky looked at Honda Mikado. Honda Mikado sat. Lutz van Beilschmdt sat.

Feliciano Vargas stood up, swore, and sat back down again.

It is odd, how none of them asked anything like "How the hell did we get here?" or "Why the mother fuck does that motherfucker there look exactly like me?" or anything. But they are countries. They know weird better than anyone else.

Bickering dissolved into the background.

"Silence." God's voice boomed.

Everybody looked up, suddenly finding the ceiling very interesting.

"I'm not on the ceiling. I'm everywhere, so there's no need to look."

_Oh._

Everybody looked down.

"This is a contest."

"The look-alike to you is your counterpart from another universe. The set lead by Alfred F. Jones or America-"

"Fuck yeah!" Alfred punched the air. "Take that, England! I lead."

"Pardon?" Asked Oliver politely. "Did you just call me? I believe that I don't know you."

"He said _England,_ you moron. That's me." Arthur growled.

"Well, I'm also called England." Shrugging, Oliver turned around to face the wall for no apparent reason, straightening his blue bowtie.

"That set I just mentioned, are the First Players. They came first.

The other group of nations are the Second Players, who are clones of the First Players, besides a small difference in appearance and a more sinister personality."

"As you are programmed to do so, the First Players and the Second Players will fight each other to death. You will have one week left to your own devices. You have all been de-armed when you came here. The only weapons available are one knife and one gun with seventeen shots. Enough for every one of you besides the survivor."

"The survivor, the final winter of this contest, gets to have a wish granted, _as long as it is in my power."_

"You may begin the killing. I will sit back and watch."

God's presence disappeared from the room. It suddenly felt cold.

Silence. Just as God requested a minute ago. Now it filled the room.

"Oh, so we kill each other until one person is left?" Twitching nervously, Zhou asked.

No reply.

"Ah well."

Standing up, Alfred turned to the First Players.

"We will have to cooperate to destroy these evil Second Players! Fight under my flag together, and me, the hero's side will win!" He declared.

"You are thick, aren't you. Firstly, you don't have a flag with you. Secondly, I am most definitely _not _going to fight under your bloody flag." Arthur reacted first, folding his arms and looking like a prissy Brit, which is his exact nature, besides the tsundereness.

"I only fight for myself, aru." Yao continued his search for snacks.

"I'd love to fight for everyone, in the name of love, you know. But I don't want to." Francis yawned. That didn't even make sense.

Alfred and Arthur started squabbling.

"America-san, Igirisu-san, please calm down."

"Germany, Germany, pasta, pasta! I don't fight, I only surrender, veh~"

The Second Players watched with interest as the other group carried on with the idiotic bickering they get into every day.

**A sudden switch to Ivan's point of view. Because I say so.**

I keep the smile on my face as us, the First Players, argued on, excluding me and Germany. These idiots will never survive. But I will. With my Yao. He's mine. I edge closer to China, who didn't notice me. The Second Players are watching us like a TV show, and I can't blame them.

No one noticed the gun and the knife lying on the sofa. Besides me.

"China." I whispered.

Yao jumped. "What, aru?"

"The gun and knife on the sofa. Get them with me. In three seconds."

"Ru-Russia, what?"

"Three, two, one."

I jumped up, grabbing Yao's arm which made him stand too, and bolted towards the weapons.

**Magical Point of View Switching (MPVS) declares that you are now Lutz.**

The other Russia and the other China have flown towards the weapons.

I should have guessed, being the First Players, they have some sort of plan. I did not expect that, but I did notice the weapons' existence.

I exploded into the air and dived for the gun.

We reached the sofa at the same time. The knife was in the other China's hands already. The Russian had the handle of the gun, but I clasped the other end tightly. There is no way I am letting go of it. It is my ticket out of here, along with a dream of my choice coming true.

A childish grin played up the Russian's face. His finger curled inwards.

Head-splitting pain hit my chest, which is where the gun was pointed. I was holding the wrong end of the gun. A familiar, deafening crack split onto the air, my chest burned, and suddenly everyone was looking this way.

The Russian was still grinning, and the Chinese man was blocked by him.

I'm tall, so the fall to the floor will hurt, but my world went black before I hit the ground.

I can feel liquid dripping down my chest and soaking through my clothes as my consciousness faded slowly.

"What the fuck. Germany's already down." It was one of the Second Players. I can't tell who.

Inky blackness.


	3. second death in progress

**Already killed off 2P Germany.**

**By the way, I write slow, so chapters come up slow. My apologies.**

_chapter. Ii_

**MPVS to God brought to you by Britain, Flying Mint Bunny & Co.**

I kick back and watch as chaos erupted in the little apartment living room.

The two groups separated immediately, the First Players and the Second Players backed away from each other, besides Ivan, because he is Ivan, and Yao, because Ivan is not letting go of his shirt collar, and Lutz, because death immobilized his physical body. His spirit is making its way up here now.

It isn't even interesting.

The Narrator I appointed isn't doing well either. Annoying descriptions. Bits of dialogue. Seriously, come up with something interesting.

I'll just summon 1P Poland and Lithuania to commentate or something.

Oh, and did I mention this? Those who are in the game have their immortality temporarily removed, or killing will not exist.

**MPVS to Poland brought to you by Norway, Random Faeries & Co.**

I, like, totally wanted to barf after I appeared in this weird white place with clouds and stuff. Liet's right before me. It's not like I never barfed on him before, but I'm nice.

And this old grandpa guy, like, totally had to tell us to commentate that, like, that massacre he's watching.

"Continue whining, and I shall wipe you off the maps."

Okay, okay, whatever.

So, like, these guys-

"Cut off with the "like"s."

Fine.

So we're watching some 1Ps and 2Ps from who knows where with Liet and a self-proclaimed God.

The 1Ps sorta stood against the wall to the east, and the 2Ps, lik-I mean, just stood at the western end, and looked ready for a fight.

"Oh, so these are our counterparts from another universe? I feel insulted." Drawled the guy on the very left. Like, Francois, or something. "I can't believe Lutz is out already."

"Yeah. Absolutely tragic. But it makes it easier for us. Now gimme that knife." Growled the Allen guy, and turned to Yao.

"No, I'm not an American idiot, aru. I'm not even American, and I have pandas to attend to before I got here, aru." Yao took a step back, and ended up setting both feet on Ivan's. Ivan did not make a sound.

And then, like, evil America sort of randomly appeared in Yao's face, and Yao hit him-bwaaaaah.

**MPVS to Lithuania brought to you by Romania, Dracula & Co.**

Eh. Poland just spewed. I guess my favourite shirt is ruined for now. And now I'm telling the story too, because he can't stand gore.

Yao stabbed Allen on the left arm. Allen did not even react to the injury, and Yao brandished his wok. I mean, he tried to. Then he realized that it disappeared when he got in here. Everyone's watching the fight in the middle.

It's hard to predict who will win the fight, after all China and America are at about the same level already at other things.

Allen F. Jones grabbed for the knife again. Yao yanked it back, and stabbed again. Jumping to the side quickly, Allen took a step back.

I noticed that the Second Players, instead of helping, simply watched the fight with interested, even 2P Japan. Kiku most definitely will not be sitting around watching a fight, but apparently Mikado does that a lot.

"Is it safe to look?" Asked Poland, looking up. He buried his face between his legs as Allen sent a fist flying towards Yao's nose, which missed its target and landed on his chest instead. A sickening crunch filled the room, and Yao doubled backwards. Allen swiped for the knife.

"Bleah. Like, tell me when it's over, Liet."

Now both Yao and Allen are gripping onto the handle of the knife. Neither will let go.

Yao realized that the hand he wasn't using to grip the knife handle was still free. He punched Allen's nose, and warm, scarlet blood poured out. But the American did not let go.

"Seriously, is this the best you two can do?" God asked behind me. "Get out of here already. I'd rather have the Narrator."

The ground is spinning beneath us, and in a few seconds we are back at Poland's house, painting it pink, which is exactly what we were up to before we started watching the gruesome show.

"I, like, totally don't want to watch that again. Now can't we, like, finish the painting? Like, hot, hot, pink!"

**Point of view switch to Narrator. This is annoying.**

Those guys almost stole my job, that Pole and the Lithuanian. I hate them already.

Ivan Braginsky came up from behind Allen. The famed "dark, evil, purplish aura" surrounded his frame. The First Players shuddered and attempted to back against the wall more collectively, while the Second Players found it interesting, like a TV programme.

"Patapatapata! We surrender!" Feliciano produced a white handkerchief from his pocket and waved it around like he is trying to swat a fly. "I'll do anything, anything! Just don't hurt me, veh~ Germany and Japan too~"

Ludwig did another one of those expert facepalms. Kiku shifted uncomfortably, as he felt Mikado, his evil counterpart's eyes trained on him, probably trying to figure out how to kill him.

Ivan grabbed Allen from behind. His 1P's glasses would have fallen off, but Allen does not wear glasses.

"No one hurts Yao. Ufufu." With the evil glow around him (you can actually see it), Ivan giggled the way a child might before popping the eyes of a dragonfly or pressing a button to cause world destruction.

"Now, now, gentlemen." Francis Bonnefoy chimed, walking across the room. "Now isn't the time to fight."

"France, for once, has a good point." Ludwig van Beilschmdt followed him. "We have week to survive in here, with limited supplies-"

"What's 'we'?" Questioned Feliciano Vargas. "As long as I can see, those in this room are obviously divided in two groups. Us, the Second Players, and you guys, veh."

The "veh" was not a random sound. It was more like a verbal tick similar to both of the Chinas' a "aru".

"While you First Players may want to simply live through these days, veh, we want a wish fulfilled. You heard the God guy. He promised it. He's God, he can do it. And we're 2Ps." He sat down with a shrug.

"Figure it out yourself."

"Your point is, you guys want a wish while we don't?" Alfred asked stupidly.

"Yeah. So we'll be killing you, aru." Wang Zhou stood up as well. "I think I will beat my useless 1P. senseless, aru."

"Hey, peace, aru!" Yao replied, taking advantage of the conversation distracting Allen, and stabbed towards his torso.

Allen F. Jones's scream echoed around the room, and Yao withdrew the knife. It made a clean cut on Allen's stomach, and, ow. I wouldn't want to have that thing on me.

He fell back, and his fellow Players, instead of catching him, watched him fall the floor with a thud. And he started writhing and thrashing, cursing and screaming, attempting to quench the steady flow of red.

"He's gonna fail." Observed Nicolai Braginsky. "So let's get those guys." He pointed towards the First Players.

"Peace isn't an option with us." And the Second Players charged in unison, catching the Frist Players completely by surprise.


	4. leave the hate

**Author's note:**

**I can't think of any way to continue this drabble, so I trashed the original plan and just let the story grow by itself. Summer just started, so more updates.**

**.**

_chapter iii._

_._

**-Somewhere over the rainbow-**

God got some beer. This is getting interesting.

-.

**-Back to living hell, presented to you by Kiku Honda-**

A mysterious man in pink walked up to me before I can do anything. Other than the odd pink suit, he also had an oversized blue bowtie, and eyebrows on can identify from a mile away. England-san's Second Player.

"Hi!" He waved energetically. Apparently Oliver Kirkland, I believe is acting more civilized than the rest of the group.

"Greetings." I replied, nodding.

"Would you like to be allies with me?"

What? This person is quite direct with things. He is a Second Player, I am not. I have others to help, others who I am loyal to.

"Sorry, but no."

"Well, I have no choice then. But I tried to save you. MIKADO!" The sentence ended with the shout of a word. It was incorrectly pronounced, but it meant "emperor".

"What?" A red-eyed man turned from the chaos. His face is my mirror image, besides his eyes, which burned ruby red.

"He doesn't want to be my friend…" Oliver Kirkland used an almost, forgive me, whiny voice.

The Second Player looked at me. I looked at the ground.

Very suddenly, he charged at me.

.

**-Wang Yao.**

Kiku is being attacked. Wang Yao* could care less.

Over the years, Kiku's betrayal has not been forgotten by Wang Yao at all. In fact, it has deepened. Wang Yao can totally watch Kiku being mutilated by some evil clone of his, without even blinking.

They use to be such good terms, as siblings. But everything was blown away after that war. That bloody, drowning-in-scarlet war. Wang Yao does not forget.

Kiku screamed somewhere behind him. Wang Yao stood behind Ivan's protective arms, as he warded off all who had the nerve to approach them.

The scream echoed around Wang Yao's mind. Scream, like he did when the blade slashed down his back. Scream, like he did at the mountain of bodies after the Nanking Massacre. Scream, like he did, so many times.

Some part of his mind shattered. The rest remained intact.

_Puny Japan*. I won't help. You brought this upon yourself. No. No, don't help. I won't. I will not. Don't don't don't don't don't' DON'T._

Worry, nervousness, pain shot through his body. He couldn't watch this. He couldn't. The same way it crashed down on him when Hong Kong was taken by England, when Macau was taken by Portugal, and many times more.

The mask of hate cannot stay in place for any longer. Ivan isn't looking back, too busy dealing with 2P France and his own counterpart.

"Japan!" Leaping from behind Ivan, Wang Yao brought his knife down upon Honda Mikado's neck, all hatred towards Kiku forgotten.

**In China, if a person's name consists of only two characters (like in 1P China's case), they are simply referred to in their full name. And the surname is always placed first. If a name has three (common) or four (rare) characters, the surname is ignored and the person is called whatever the other two non-surname characters are. "Puny Japan" is a common insult for the Japanese in general in China, as many Chinese people still hold grudges towards the Japanese (yes, still, especially at the climax of the Diao Yu Islands business). "Little Japan" would have been a more accurate translation, but "puny" has more of a ring to it. **


	5. untitled

**-Honda Mikado**

Honda Mikado dodged the blow, as Honda Kiku would. Quickly retreating, the Japanese Second Player knew that attempting to beat an expert knife-wielder with fists is absolute insanity. And this was China. China's First Player, so there is barely any chance of beating him, even in a fistfight.  
But Wang Yao isn't done with him. Revenge is like ice cream, sweet and best served cold. Both Wang Yao and Wang Zhou like ice cream.  
Something appeared in the Chinese man's tired, golden eyes. And suddenly they weren't tired anymore. A deadly fight between an awakened dragon and an evil clone began.

Somewhere behind them, a Japanese nation is slowly bleeding his life out, while the main fight raged on.

**-Narrator**

Seriously, sometimes I wonder what God is paying me for. I'm not doing any work. So when Wang Yao is busy trying to kill Mikado Honda, Feliciano Vargas and Matt Williams are dealing with Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland. Somehow Ivan was holding awesomely against Wang Zhou, Nicolai Braginski and Oliver Kirkland. Both Frances are trying to touch everybody else besides the Russias. Veneziano Vargas was acting wimpy enough for the 2Ps to ignore him. Ludwig is nowhere in sight, probably checking out the other two rooms.

"Shut the hell up."  
Who me?  
"You, veh. Before I do anything."  
I'm telling the story, you get back to it.  
Snatching the gun away from Ivan's hands, Feliciano Vargas pointed the gun at-hey the hell what are you doing-  
An absurdly loud gunshot rang through the air-the hell o wow ow shit shit shit it's BURNING FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER LET THE PAIN STOP OWOWOW SHIT SHIT SHIT BOLLOCKS SHIT BLOODY HELL-

**-Narrator failed to continue existing. **

**-Somewhere over the rainbow, God's point of view.**

"Ah, you're here." I nod at the narrator I hired earlier.  
"I'm not working for you again."  
"Ah, but I won't be hiring you again in the first place."

**-Nicolai Braginski, back to the mortal world.**

"What the hell was that f-"I did not get to finish my sentence, as my look-alike slammed a boot into my stomach.  
"Ah, nothing." Feliciano put on his 'mafia boss' face. He faced the man who just sent me crashing on the floor and pointed the gun at him.


	6. chapter 5

**-Ivan**

He scowled at the gun. The scowl then changed into a merry, childish smile. For some reason it looked sick against the crimson background, which was painted with his own blood.

The other man, the opposite of that wimp, was confused. What was the smile for? It is rather unnerving, but not unnerving enough to paralyze anyone, if that's what he's thinking. Fucking Russian bastard, making life so hard.

Ivan knew his distraction worked. A confused look flitted across the Italian's face, which is when he got him square on the stomach. The Italian's breath was knocked out of him, and Ivan snatched the gun from his hands.

A full-fledged grin spread across his face as he pulled the trigger.

**-Mikado **

We all turned at the gunshot. Even that Chinese jerk.  
That Russian creep with the scarf, the 1P one, was standing over the limp body of Feliciano Vargas. Like, oh come on, Feliciano is annoying like hell. And the Chinese guy is still trying to poke me with the pointy end of the knife. So I can't do anything at the moment besides run around in circles.  
The knife's target is me. The knife suddenly flew into the air and managed to hit its target on the right shoulder.  
"Fuck!"  
"Aiyaa*! You got blood over Kiku's uniform!"  
The blade must have hit one of those annoyingly important muscles, because when I tried to move my arms to run, a type of burning pain shot up my arm. It's not like, I've never endured worse, but it is still totally shitty. But I'm a hardcore killer. So, pulling the knife out (like, totally painful), I threw it blindly towards what I hope is that Chinese bastard's face.

**-Arthur Kirkland**

Everyone besides China and the evil Japan were watching. Evil Japan is losing at the moment, which is good. I think his name is Honda Mikado or something. Why isn't anyone helping their side? I look around. France is pestering everybody, Russia is watching, while holding the gun rightly, Japan is still on the floor, Germany and Italy are nowhere in sight, and America appears to be trying to find a good moment to stand up and yell :"I'm the HERO!". The 2Ps are generally watching with immense interest.

**-Ludwig Beilschmidt**

The room Italy dragged me into is white. All walls blank, white floor, white ceiling. No furniture either.  
I'm wondering why nobody else came in yet, this is just one of the two doors that lead off the living room, after all. The other door is locked.  
We are temporarily safe here.  
"Ve~, Germany, this place is so odd~ There aren't any lights but I can still see~"  
I heard a scream. It came from outside. It sounded like-  
"Japan!" I push the door open, and it smashed onto the wall. How could I have ignored my allies? Hiding like that is cowardly!

**-Honda Mikado again**

Francois and Nicolai suddenly appeared and pushed the Chinese bastard away from me. Now they're dealing with him, how nice.  
I look back at my useless counterpart. I have to finish him off right now, because if I try to fight him when he recovers, I can't beat him, and he can't beat me. Because our skill is on the same level.

So I twist his arms and applied some means of torture that does not include any knives.

**-Ludwig Beilschmidt**

I kicked the Mikado guy's stomach. He fell back and failed to sit up immediately. Judging by the amount of force I put in the kick, he won't be getting up for a while.

Russia grinned. "I can use the gun now!"

And he did.  
Why didn't he use it earlier then? Before Japan got hurt?

I faced the smiling Russian.  
"Shoot them."

He nodded. And he did.

***Aiyaa: using Pinying, a similar-to-Romaji thing, it should be spelt "Eiya". But it looks to weird.**


End file.
